The Hotel Immortale
by Tigerdust
Summary: 3 holiday fics in one neat bow, if you'll pardon the pun. On the planet Barcelona, two very lonely immortal men simply known as the Doctor and Angel, find solace in those left behind. Its a Christmas to remember. Doctor,Donna and Angel, Lindsey.
1. Chapter 1

The Hotel Immortale on Barcelona is retro-fitted to attract a certain type of clientèle. The nightclub is down a grand foyer of a staircase with polished brass rails. It twists underneath brightly lit shops from the main villa, but its near enough that you can hear the ocean of Barcelona if you listen closely enough. The ecosystem allows for shark steak when requested, but its rare unless one of the Stargate men stop by.

Electricity is the back-up for when they run out of oil, which isn't often. Most of the customers prefer the smoky smell. Its of great contrast to the silky pink swag along the walls and the harsh red tables, under lit by candles. The nightclub itself is arranged in a shell pattern and the division of the shell is set by knock-off Greco Roman statues created by the artists of Barcelona to mock the ones of Earth in their own fashion. Their favorite object to show being held by any of these statues is grapes. But no one ever denotes the inaccuracy.

The hotel attracts both a certain type of clientèle along with a certain type of performer. Lady Gaga has asked twice and been turned away twice by management. On the other hand, three of the original Follies Bergere dancers, before going into retirement, performed here for a week straight. They invited fans from throughout the greater galaxy and attracted notable men who left earth or maybe their doubles. Management doesn't delineate when Frank Sinatra appears in the room.

Often, people show up in period dress simply because they can. That's the case at the seventh table from stage and dance floor, still slightly glittery with confetti at the edges from the recent New Years celebration. The glitter will be fully gone by April. Angel doesn't want to sit as close the stage as the man at the third table, whom he has never been introduced to but knows well enough as the Doctor.


	2. Chapter 2

Angel doesn't remember the taste of wine. Growing up before the change, Liam had never cared for it. The brew of choice had always been a strong, heady Irish Guinness. Liam had been extremely proud of how much he could pack away and still bed the whores of town.

But Angel was a different man now, so far away from that beast of a boy he had been. Swirling the liquid in the crystal goblet, he raised the blood up to his lips. It was a thick but pure B positive, his favorite more or less. Human blood didn't affect him here and he was glad for the respite from swine.

Of course, Wesley had been right about how Angel had been living, cloistering himself away and giving every inch over to his psychic baggage. Enjoying little pleasures had to become everything after the end of war for Los Angeles. It had to be because he was nothing but a relic now, a statue of a hero. He was the unnecessary early champion and found that he was more than glad to give Spike the mantle if he really wanted it. He preferred his quiet, dark home and games of hockey.

"Well, well. They told me you were here."

Angel blinked before setting his glass down on the table sharply. "Lindsey."

Lindsey smirked, raising his chin. "That's right. I'm impressed you've decided to come out to Barcelona without popping a blood vessel, wondering what might be happening back at home."

Angel gritted his teeth through his own blank facial expression. "Just taking a little vacation after the war. Now, I'm pretty sure, and please correct if I'm wrong but aren't you supposed to be..."

Lindsey nodded. "Dead? Oh yeah. I'm not really very alive. Seems like you can really make a deal with anyone to get out by the skin of your teeth, but you seem to know quite a bit about that."

Angel grumbled under his breath. "Who released you?"

Lindsey shrugged, the pressed color of his white button down just wrinkled above his almost maroon vest and under his arms. "I found some connections. A demon that went through Sunnydale and lived to talk about it. Guy named Sweet, pretty keen on souls like me with big emotional hang-ups."

Angel sighed. "Should I be worried about you?"

Lindsey shook his head. "What? Think I have th energy to be angry at you? Sure, I was for like the first century. But then something dawned on me. You sent the weakest of the flunkies you could to take me down. It was a moment that I will never forget because it made me realize just what kind of coward you are. Couldn't even do your own dirty work when I gave you the chance to reform me."

The vampire stood, grabbing onto Lindsey's sleeve. "You listen here, cowboy. You make trouble, you come after me and I will make sure the job is finished. I've made my own contacts and I damn sure won't have a dangerous punk like you running around everywhere. I was right to send Lorne after you, after what he told me about your future. You've never been anything but a waste."

Lindsey smiled uneasily as he pulled his elbow away from Angel's ice grip. "Don't get your 32 Dockers in a twist, Angel. I only got this gig as a server cause the management keeps me on a short leash. Can't do nothing without them breathing down my neck. Besides, I've got no desire to end up back in the place where you'd double crossed a lot of powerful people. Unless, of course, they've got the right price for me. I don't have to tell you what the Powers think, you already probably know based on the hand you were dealt."

Angel let do of Lindsey's sleeve with a snarl and smoothed out his own shirt before returning to his seat. "Don't cross me or I'll make sure the next one sticks."

Lindsey shrugged without effort. "I've still got the bullet holes to prove it."

As Lindsey moved about his work, Angel tried to settle uneasily back in his seat. Lindsey had always been slippery, but now he was bringing it up to an art form. Bargaining your way out of hell was a trick that left Angel unable to sit still. He wanted to grab Lindsey in a vice grip again, slam him against a wall, and make the man talk. Smoothing the anger down a bit, he focused on the reason he was here.

The lights went dim and a red haired lady in a gold bustier covered by a tasteful white dinner jacket made her way onto the stage. She introduced the man who entered after a beat. He was dressed in comic rags, his face painted to look like a clown.

He began the lines of the song and Angel's heart skipped a beat, as much as it would have if it had still been beating. Send in the Clowns was one of his favorite songs and the only tenor he truly had ever appreciated was singing it. When Lindsey came with a second goblet of blood, Angel whispered in his ear. "I want to meet the tenor."

Lindsey nodded. "I'll talk to Jack. See what can be arranged."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Lindsey proved good to his word this time and soon enough, Angel found himself hesitating as he knocked on Paul's dressing room door. Momentary silence greeted the knock.

"Come in."

Angel let the door swing open. Paul didn't see anyone in the reflection right away and so his gaze continued to drift on the task at hand. Taking the baby wipe, Paul rolled the smooth cloth across his cheek, revealing the beginning of wrinkles just under his crows feet as the grease paint smeared onto the baby wipe.

Angel coughed, causing Mr. Byrom to turn. Paul's mouth screwed up into its cat-like smile. "Sorry. Still not used to the planet."

Angel took the extended hand as Paul rose. "I just wanted to tell you that it was a real treat to see you in person, Mr. Byrom."

"I do appreciate that. Can I offer you a drink....sir?"

Angel shakes his head. "Full from dinner still. The name's Angel. What's such a magnificent voice like yours doing on Barcelona?"

Paul turns back to the mirror. "I'm approaching a certain age Mr. Angel, even an age where its harder and harder to find someone who has an ear for a classically-trained tenor."

Angel furrows his brow. "But you were the voice of Ireland....I remember...."

"Was. Times changed, but I didn't change enough with them. Tell me, Mr. Angel, do you think I still have the gift?"

Angel nodded. "Undoubtedly. Its a shame to waste it. Ireland could still use you still. I heard you when you did the Canadian National Anthem for the championship in 07, I think."

"Ah. A sports fan along with a classical ear."

"I'm kind of a rare breed."

"I gathered." Paul went over to the bar and started to fix himself a drink. "I appreciate your compliments so much. Its hard to find genuine appreciation most days. Are you sure I can't offer you anything?"

"I'm sure you don't have anything on hand."

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Don't I? Come, sit, Mr. Angel and grab the door before there's a draft upon us."

Angel nodded and sat down on the arm of the large sofa where Paul's frame was sinking into as he kicked off his black Italian loafers. "So. Mr. Angel, what do you think of the Red Wings this year?"

Angel shrugged. "They have a shot. They always seem to do something unexpected."

"Have a lot of faith in them, then?"

Angel pieced the words carefully in his throat. "Faith is a funny thing, Mr. Byrom. For instance, I didn't quite have the faith that you would meet anyone, a voice such as yours."

"It's a shame you feel so little of yourself."

"Work in progress."

Paul licked his lips as a dribble of fine liquor appeared and he set the glass down gingerly on the carpet. "I believe a great man once said that we are always as such until the day of the great passing."

"Probably so." Even if that's inaccurate for me.

"But my guess is because of the infamy of this establishment, that does not fit you. What is it that you are that I might be flattered with immortal praise?"

"A vampire."

"Really? A Celtic vamp? Don't hear about those in the stories." Paul leaned forward to listen, his eyes exuding a spark.

"Haven't seen the homeland in quite a while. I was in Los Angeles last."

"A vampired and a globetrotter. I should be honored."

Angel nodded. "I can't imagine why you wouldn't."

"Its been a long time since I've been honored, Mr. Angel. That's a part of the great secret of singing, we love to be honored. We love to have our wishes granted and our desires bear fruit."

Angel was aware of Paul moving closer in his direction. "Yes, well, you deserve it. But, I'm afraid I've kept you too long."

"No, you haven't been here nearly long enough."

Angel gulped when Paul's leg kicked over his glass, staining the carpet. The scent filled his lungs first. Paul had cut himself but was still moving closer. Angel needed to get out before the thrumming sound in his ears took over his undead heartbeat.

"Mr. Byrom, this isn't wise."

"Call me Paul, Angel. And don't consider the wisdom as much as its a gift. You see, I'm a fan of your work too. Decorated in mystical current events I am. If anyone deserves a taste..."

Angel shook his head as he moved away from the chair. "You should know better than this. I don't drink human anymore."

"Aye, its supposed to do something to you. But, this is different; this place. Please...."

Wrenching the door open with the knob, Angel hurried from the room. "Sorry, Mr. Byrom. You don't want to go that route."

The soft swearing and shutting of the door continued as Angel made his way out of the backstage area. The feeling and the very sound essence of blood was still upon him. He felt dirty, encased in lustful and hungry emotions he rather preferred not to feel during work or vacation hours.


	3. Chapter 3

Angel walked, trying to clear his own head and not trusting himself to stay safely in his own room with someone that curious wandering around the hotel and knowing full well how Angel felt about him. He would have to worry about Paul until he knew Paul was out of the hotel itself. The sharp laughter was the first thing that broke through, causing Angel to detour.

"Lindsey."

The statement made Lindsey turn unassumingly to meet Angel's fist, which sent his body reeling sharply into the tall bar. If there had been no obstruction, he might have flown across the room. Other staff rose from various chairs in the place, but Lindsey simply shook his wrist and they sat down, shooting daggers at the vampire.

"Angel, how did the meeting with Mr. Byrom go?"

His voice was a low, dangerous growl. "You knew he was into games, didn't you?"

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, but that's good to know. Hope you didn't soil that angelic gown of yours on Mr. Byrom's fetish."

Lindsey was aware that Angel's grip on him caused goosebumps to raise heavily across his back. His rib cage was pressed into the bar, almost bending him in half. Angel moved his vice grip so that Lindsey was basically bent over behind the vampire.

"I told you you would pay if you humiliated me. Say good night to your friends because you aren't seeing them again."

Hauling him roughly by the collar before he had a chance to protest, Lindsey felt himself lifted from the ground and walked over to the stairs. Angel could smell an intriguing mix of fear and lust off of Lindsey's body. Added to the blood he had sensed from Paul, Angel was a hazy combination of emotions and needs that even he wasn't capable of containing.

The first thought Lindsey had was that the sheets and blankets on the beds here were ridiculously lavish, but they had to be to hold up to the hotel's standards. Turning back and trying to wriggle off the bed, he thought better of moving when he saw Angel slam the door hard behind him and then begin to undo his shirt buttons.

"Angel, I swear."

"Now would be a very good time to shut up."

Lindsey's eyes went wide when he saw Angel's hard-on through his pants. He realized he was still pretty much sprawled out on the bed and very unexposed. Lindsey's whole body shivered. The Angel he met in Los Angeles would have never...but, then again, he though...this isn't the same Angel at all.

Angel's weight on the bed wasn't much. It was the breath on the back of Lindsey's neck that did it. His hips bucked against Angel's body when he felt the weight press down. Angel was growling something into his ear, but he was having a lot of trouble hearing. "...always wanted this, you ungrateful little son of a bit. Setting me up, not a good thing, ain't gonna take that crap. But I bet you wanted to set me up because you knew I'd come to find you..."

Angel's hands pressed down hard, pinning Lindsey where he was. Lindsey heard the rip of his shirt right off his back as it fell in cascades. He was exposed and Angel's body seemed to be absorbing all the heat he had. Even when Angel moved his hands to slip off Lindsey's trousers, he did not dare move.

"This is gonna hurt."

"You ain't gonna..., are you?"

Angel stood, pacing irrationally with his hard shaft jogging out in front. "What do you think, Lindsey? Tell me this, how long have you wanted it?"

"I....I..."

Angel was upon him again. "Wrong answer. And trust me, you don't want to give any more wrong answers. Cause I have half a mind to just ram you until you bleed, boy. I might have a soul, but I have no quandaries about finishing what I start."

Lindsey hissed, getting angry about the violation. "Powers got you all messed up, huh? You think cause I admired you that I want you to fuck me? You got problems, man. You better let me get back downstairs before someone comes looking."

Lindsey didn't have a chance to scream before Angel punctured his puckered hole with his pinkie. It wasn't much, but to Lindsey's tight ass it was more than enough. Muscles groaned and relaxed around Angel's finger until it was unbearable. Lindsey felt great relief when Angel finally moved the finger out. He was gasping with breath, red in his face from shame and anger, but unable to do anything except spit venom out of his eyeballs in Angel's direction. Angel had, after all, placed a pillow in front of his mouth just so he couldn't scream when he was deflowered.

"You'll not talk to me like that again. No one would dare come for you. Now I want an answer or I promise a finger won't be the next thing you feel."

"Fine then. You wanna hear you're attractive? Sure, what the hell Angel. But this ain't the way. I didn't know about the singer and if I had, I wouldn't have stopped you because you deserve to be knocked down a peg."

"You're gonna pay for that."

"Like hell I am."

Lindsey was ready the next moment that Angel tried. Kicking the vampire right in the breadbasket, the Texan rolled right off the large bed and made for the door-even though he was only in his underwear. He would worry more about that later.

But he didn't make it nearly far enough. Angel was still a speedy son of a bitch and even Lindsey had to admit that he was impressively dominant. "Tell you what, I'll fill you in. I think you always wanted me, always wanted me dirty. But you were scared of what Wolfie and Hart would think, wouldn't you? You ever jack off thinking about me, Lindsey? Ever wonder what it would be like if I sucked you hard while I fucked you, made you cry out my name like the whore you sent in to do your dirty work?"

"Fuck..."

"Wrong answer."

Angel's hard shaft was thick with a heady lust. He sunk himself deep into Lindsey's ass quickly. Lindsey reached out for a nearby chair and grabbed onto it like a life preserver, but fell forward with Angel's first thrust. He was becoming light headed from wherever Angel had pushed against that made him actually enjoy this invasion of his manhood. He was numb, warm, or frostbitten, or just plain confused. Mostly, Lindsey was just about to collapse from the shock of being impaled so expertly by one of the alleged good guys.

Lindsey hoped that by going instinctively limp, Angel might lose some of his steam. But it just made things worse when he felt his body rise and felt Angel's lips against his neck. He didn't go rigid as much as fell into the fucker's grasp. He was getting hard enough that Angel noticed when his hand passed by Lindsey's hard cock.

"Right answer, boyo. Promise this next one won't hurt so much."

Angel was right, as he was about everything that Lindsey had blatantly ignored for so long. Each thrust was long and sweet or short and frustrating. Lindsey had never been this drawn into sex, except on that last night with Eve before he had been humiliated the first time. He really hated the idea of drawing the same conclusion again.

"No fangs, please."

Angel purred with delight. His fangs just grazed Lindsey's neck. "No fangs please what?"

"No fangs, please sir."

"Good boy. Second right answer in a row. Maybe you do listen. Now back on the bed."

Lindsey didn't hesitate in doing as Angel asked. He laid out on the bed, this time facing the vampire. Angel's body was cold and calculating, but rose magnificently to the occasion with demoralizing. Angel could get Lindsey to react to Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day if he had to at this point.

Lindsey wasn't sure when he came the first time. He just remembered Angel swatting his fist of covers away until Lindsey was hanging on to Angel's back and they were too close. Lindsey's warm cum sandwiched between them like god damned butter cream layers in a wedding cake. Angel groaned, thrusting deep and shooting hard in Lindsey after that.

But Lindsey couldn't stand not having that feeling at least once more. So he had endured the pain just for that one moment of sweet, sweat drenched orgasmic insanity. He had showered at some point, Angel hadn't let him do it alone. Eventually, Angel let him leave. But his body was exhausted and shaky. Looking back at Angel, he saw the vampire sleeping soundly and all Lindsey could do was shake his head and wonder what the hell had just happened, hoping he wasn't late for his next shift and knowing that Jack wouldn't mind so much.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ladies and gentlemen, another hand for Paul Byrom!"

There was scattered applause across the room as the redhead put her hand back down into the folds of her skirt. She was sitting on a black stool, hair flowing down like fiery strands of pasta over her fantastic bosom. She was an older woman, but not much more so than thirty five. She had an air of celebrity about her, but not enough to overwhelm the entertainment.

"I hope you are having a fantastic Christmas eve, ladies and gentlemen. Although I am sure that some of you can remember a time before it was called that and many of you just care to forget it altogether. But there are some traditions I hope you can recall like kissing someone under the mistletoe or _roasting chestnuts over an open fire with Jack Frost nipping at your nose..._"

The Doctor had stopped mid-clap, his hands and mouth frozen in an expression of incredulity. Not even he was aware to the depths the universe would go to spite him. That or...

"Doctor, dining alone?"

The dining floors were dark save for intimate candle light, but he knew that voice. He turned to confirm the man standing to the right of him. "Jack. What are you doing here?"

Jack shrugged. "Working."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Ah. What is it that you do exactly?"

Jack stood casually, with his hips slightly apart and his hands at his waist. He was wearing a very shiny red vest under a well-tailored white shirt and pants that were just tight enough to be called obscene by a prude. "You want me to go or do you really want to make small talk?"

The Doctor motioned to the adjacent seat. "Come now Jack, its the holidays." He bit his tongue upon saying that. This had indeed been Rose's favorite time of the year. He knew that because she had decorated the Tardis twice when she realized that she had no idea when Christmas would actually come on board. "I'm doing my best to not be bitter or sullen, though Lord knows I have enough of a reason. Its good to see you though."

"Glad you're feeling well. I think I will join you for that drink." They sat in amicable silence for a moment while both men palmed the drinks that came to the table, leaving cool dewy stains on their hands. Jack broke the silence once their was applause when Donna had finished the song. "I can arrange for you to say hello if you'd like."

The Doctor shook his head. "She wouldn't remember me anyways."

"That's not the point. You remember her. And it is my job to do that sort of thing."

"I can't imagine you actually working, Jack."

Jack crooked his head a bit. "Should I be flattered or insulted? They hired me on as pleasure consultant. My aim is to make sure every guest is well taken care of."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, as if that had been the answer he was expecting. "Of course. Only you could make a career out of pleasure, Jack. But I can't say hello to her and risk her happiness. I hope she's being paid enough for this."

Capt. Jack Harkness nodded. "Of course. I arranged it, knowing you would be here. I want you both to meet. No complications, no risks. She'll be wiped when her tour is done here. She's still a temp, she's still waiting."

The time lord furrowed his brow. "No...no, I simply couldn't put her through that."

Jack gave the Doctor a hearty slap on the back as he rose from his chair. "Come on, Doctor, its the holidays. I won't let you give me no for an answer."

He sighed in response. "Fine. Since when did you become so persuasive, Jack?"

But Jack was already halfway across the room, having been pulled to the side by a man with brown bangs who was wearing something of the same uniform. When the lights finally came up on the dance floor and the swing music began to play, Jack seemed to reappear from nowhere. "You ready?"

The Doctor felt old that moment and paper thin. Well, as much as a Time Lord can actually feel old and paper thin. "I suppose you won't give me much of an option. Although, I must say that I always preferred Knight Rider to Love Boat. After all, I can't even get the Tardis to to talk to me without two snippy words in every sentence and David bloody Hasselhoff..."

The Doctor trailed on as he rose. Jack crossed his arms and smiled warmly. He had missed tuning in and out of the Doctor's conversations and still hearing him on the same topic. "...which is why I finally got them to bloody stop making the Flintstones. Imagine modeling aliens after little green, floating things! They've only got those on three planets in the Delmarka system!"

"I had them send her winter roses care of you."

The Doctor's eyes lit up. "Jack, you've become incredibly thoughtful in your old age!"

Jack ignored the old comment. "You can thank a Mr. Jones for that. Well, if he were still around. Backstage, this way..."

The Doctor followed into the shifting tide of red curtain that lead way to the fake rosewood of the dormant chaos that is a maze of props and dressing room necessary for something like stage productions. They were upon her door quite suddenly.

When he hesitated in knocking, Jack sighed through his nose. "Do I gotta knock for you?"

The Doctor turned. "I do have the capability of knocking, thanks so much! Its just...its been quite a long time. I can do this. I know I can do this."

Jack turned to go, but the Doctor said his name and he stopped before long. "Jack! Thank you."

Jack nodded before disappearing back to his duties. "You deserve it, Doctor. Even if its only temporary."

He did knock eventually, which greater difficultly than that which he would like to admit.

He could hear Donna humming on the other side before she addressed the knock. "Please come in!"

Gulping a lump of water that had formed in his throat, he passed the thresh hold and closed the door behind him, finding her bright eyes fixated on him. She looked happier than he recalled. "Hello, Ms. Noble. I wanted to wish you hearty congratulations."

Donna rose, a lovely decorative corset glittering gold in the lights of the room which felt hot to the Doctor even when dimmed. She must have been cold since Donna was wearing a white dinner jacket over the rest of the ensemble. "Hello there! Jack said something about my secret admirer stopping by. Said you were attractive, not much of a secret there. I do attract the handsome ones."

The Doctor lost his train of thought when he saw the way her bosoms heaved nicely in the outfit. Her penchant for stating the obvious had always been refreshing. "Yes, well, I can't take credit for the flowers though. Those were Jack's idea."

Donna sniffed the roses near her mirror before crossing the room and extending her hand to meet the Doctor's own. "They smell lovely. I don't think Jack gets enough credit for his work around here. But you should have taken credit for them, silly man. That's why he said they were from you!"

"Well, I should have gotten something for you in a pinch. I can you know, I mean, if I had known you would be here tonight. Those winter roses, quite good actually. Have the smell of moonbeams from the Alora system on them, turn purple closer you get to February." The Doctor lingered in his handshake until Donna politely pulled back.

"Could I offer you a drink? Lovely light brandy here in a crystal decanter. Imagine all this fanciness for a simple temp from London doing holiday work!" Donna chuckled at the statement.

The Doctor shook his head. "Water's fine. I don't drink much."

Donna's warm smile lit the room around her. "Yes, Jack did manage to tell me that much, but left a lot to be desired. I can't place it but I feel as though we've known each other. Must have one of those faces, eh?"

The Doctor watched as Donna sprawled out on a nearby settee, leaving plenty of room for his lean frame amongst the plush deep rose patterned silk. He suddenly felt very awkward standing and was glad he was so near the door. He really wanted to just be gone and forget this whole silly endeavor that Jack had cooked up. "That's what they tell me. I've seen you around London is all, glad you're living up to your potential."

Donna laughed. "Me? I'm just a temp working through the holidays, no matter what fancy title you give it. Come then? What do you do?"

The Doctor suddenly wished he had a hat that he could fidget with in his hands as Donna glanced the open part of the settee so that he could join her. "You might call me a sort of international traveler. I work in, umm, finance. Yes, thats it, finance."

"A playboy taking interest in me? Quite flattering. Do you have a name to go with that mysterious facade of yours?"

The Doctor hesitantly lowered himself at Donna's feet. "John Smith, common name of all things. You wouldn't recognize it, but you should recognize the fact that you deserve the best."

"My mum says the same thing any occasion she can."

The Doctor nodded. "Always good to hear it once in awhile. I don't hear it that often."

"Must be pretty lonely. Jack told me you don't keep companions very well. Good at that, Jack is, just giving enough information but never enough to say anything. He must have learned it from somewhere."

The Doctor bit down on his tongue. "Yes, well, its easy enough to pick up if you wish. Listen, I should leave you to rest..."

Donna furrowed her brow, little makeup lines scrunching on her forehead from the base she hadn't gotten off yet. "That's jolly good. Just waltz in for a bit and then waltz out like nothing happened? You seem rather nervous."

He looked away just a bit. "I never learned how to deal with pretty women."

Donna's eyes lit up. "You think I'm pretty?"

The Doctor nodded.

"So, lets review. You send me flowers through Jack, arrange a meeting in private, also through Jack, through around compliments and then try to leave as quickly. One might think you, silly Mr. Smith, have developed a crush of some sort."

"Does it seem so hard to believe?"

Donna shook her head. "Doctor, Jack told me who you were. Not the whys. He seemed very vague on that. He said I should be honored and I feel as though I am. But, for being an alien, you did miss one important bit of information. Just above the door there."

The Doctor craned his neck just in time to see the mistletoe before his view was blocked by Donna's lips pressed against his own.

"Merry Christmas, Doctor." Donna smiled as she pulled away.

The Doctor grabbed her hand as though he were freezing and she were the sun. "Its not Christmas yet, Donna. We'll ring it in together so that I may return the favor if you'd like."

Donna looked deep into the fragile eyes. "I think that would be grand."


End file.
